I. EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY. “WHY, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away? Where are your books? - that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind! Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed You look round on your mother earth, One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake, When life was sweet, I knew not why, To me my good friend Matthew spake, And thus I made reply: "The eye-it cannot choose but see; We cannot bid the ear be still; Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Nor less I deem that there are Powers That we can feed this mind of ours Think you, mid all this mighty sum That nothing of itself will come, But we must still be seeking? -Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may, I sit upon this old gray stone, And dream my time away." II. THE TABLES TURNED; AN EVENING SCENE, ON THE SAME SUBJECT. UP! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you'll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble? The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland Linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark! how blithe the Throstle sings! He, too, is no mean preacher: Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher. She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless -- Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness. One impulse from a vernal wood Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives. |